Blessings from the Pain
by quietandsneaky
Summary: After Sam and John have a fight about Sam going to Stanford, Sam does something that turns the family upside down. But can something good come from Sam's decision? *NOT an Evy story* Rated M for suicide and suicidal thoughts.


**Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural do not belong to me.**

 **A/N: This is not an Evy story. I've had this idea in my head for a while, but I've been nervous about writing it. I finally had some time on my hands and decided to do it. Warning: rated M for suicide and suicidal thoughts.**

 **Blessings from the Pain**

Until the day he died, Dean believed he would hear the sound of a heart monitor in his sleep.

He had been parked next to Sam's bed for a solid week. John and Bobby had both tried over and over to get him to leave, but Dean couldn't do it. He had left Sam ten days earlier, and that had landed him where he was right now. In a hospital bed in Sioux Falls, with a bullet wound in his head.

Memories had been going through his brain all week. Dean had never been sentimental, but he would give anything now to go back in time. Sam at age two, begging Dean to teach him how to tie his shoes. Sam at five, asking Dean over and over if he was sure Sam would like school. Sam at nine, finding out what it was their dad did when he was gone so much. Sam at fourteen, angry and fighting with John again. Which led to ten days earlier-Sam at eighteen, telling Dean and John he was leaving for Stanford. Dean couldn't get the words his father had said to Sam out of his mind.

 _Sam, if you leave, don't come back._

But more than the words, those devastating, soul-crushing, heartbreaking words that had come out of his father's mouth, was the look on Sam's face when John had said them. A look of hopelessness, fear, and raw pain. Sam hadn't responded, just stood there staring at John for a few moments. The look on Sam's face made Dean want to go grab his father, spin him around, and break his nose. But a lifetime of training and following orders stopped Dean from doing that. John had left the room, and when he didn't come back after a full minute, Sam had turned, grabbed his bag, and walked out the door. Dean had tried to get him to stop, to come back, to talk about this more. He'd finally convinced Sam to let him drive them to the bus station. The two of them had sat in the parking lot for nearly five minutes, not talking, just staring out the window soaking in the uncomfortable silence. Dean started to say something, but Sam had turned to him and said what Dean was now hoping weren't the last words Sam would ever speak to him.

"Goodbye, Dean."

Though Dean hadn't wanted to, he'd realized that there was no way Sam would stay. Sam had everything he'd wanted. A chance at a life, a shot to live normally. Be a lawyer. Have a wife, kids, everything Dean had secretly wanted but was almost sure he'd never get. As hurt as Sam was, Dean thought he saw something else in Sam's eyes that made Dean feel like he couldn't deny Sam this chance. He saw hope.

"Bye, Sammy."

But as Dean thought about that day now, he realized that it wasn't hope he'd seen in Sam's eyes. It was hopelessness. Five days after that goodbye at the bus station, Dean ahd gotten a call from Sioux Falls general. They had a John Doe on life support with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. They'd found Dean's name and phone number in a pocket of the victim's jacket. Dean had called Bobby and asked him to go check it out. Later that night, Dean had thought he felt a snake squeezing his heart when Bobby had told him to get to the hospital as fast as he could fly. Sam had shot himself in the head.

Before Dean could think about anything else, a nurse came in to check on Sam. The nurse was nice enough. She was a grandmotherly type of woman, always asking Dean if he wanted anything to eat or drink. She was the only person in Dean's life at the moment who wasn't trying to convince him to pull the plug on Sam's life support. Bobby had asked him a couple times about it, but hadn't pushed the issue. John had been mostly absent from the hospital, only coming a couple of times to try and get Dean to let him stay the night. After Dean had responded the last time _so all of a sudden, you care now?_ John had given up. The doctors all said the same thing. Sam was brain dead. He couldn't see, hear, think, or know anything. He was just a shell, and would never wake up.

 _Screw you_ , Dean thought. _Screw all of you. Sam will wake up._

But as of that moment, Sam hadn't woken up, and Dean was still sitting beside the bed, waiting. The nurse in the room now, Betty, had been bringing Dean meals from the cafeteria, and sitting with him while he ate. She did what she'd done every day-checked Sam's monitors, made sure he was comfortable, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. She turned to Dean and asked him,

"No change, dear?"

"No." Dean answered, turning away from Sam to rub his exhausted eyes. He looked back up at Betty and asked, "Why haven't you tried to convince me to pull the plug on him?"

"That's not my decision." Betty said, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, but that doesn't stop everyone else from putting their two cents in." Dean said bitterly.

"I don't think it's right to take away someone's hope." Betty said. "There's always a chance for a miracle."

Dean scoffed. "There's no such thing as miracles."

"What makes you say that?" Betty asked.

"Because if there was, my brother wouldn't be lying here in the first place." Dean said bitterly.

"Funny. I thought it was a miracle that he was lying here and not in the ground." Betty said with a smile. "Just don't give up hope, dear."

Dean smiled back; it felt foreign, odd to him after so many days of being angry and afraid, but he couldn't resist her. "I won't."  
"All right. Call me if you need me, okay?" Betty asked as she went out the door.

Less than thirty seconds after Betty had left, someone else walked into the room. "You forget something…?" Dean asked, assuming it was Betty.

It wasn't Betty; it was Bobby and John. "Dean, we need to talk." Bobby said gravely.

"Bobby, there's nothing to talk about." Dean said, turning away from him and purposely avoiding looking at John. "I'm not going to turn off…"

"It's not about that." Bobby said. "Look at this."

Bobby handed Dean a piece of paper, and Dean's breath caught in his throat. It was Sam's handwriting, a simple note to Bobby written on a torn half sheet of crumpled up notebook paper.

 _Bobby, there's a tape in this box. Have Dad and Dean come to your house and listen to it. It's really important that everyone hears it together. -Sam_

"What the hell?" Dean asked. "Where did this come from?"

"It came to my mailbox today." Bobby said. "We've got the tape in the car. You ready to listen to it?"

"Yeah." Dean said. "Give me another few minutes with Sam, and I'll be right down."

"Dean, you've been here for days." John said. "Come downstairs with us, son. Now."

"No."

Dean found it amazing the power that small word packed into it. How freeing it was for him. How much of a burden came off his shoulders when he said it. Had the situation not been as grave as it was, Dean would have laughed at the look on his father's face, and how it had changed. It went from pure shock to anger to sadness in the space of ten seconds. John did the best he could to recover. He reminded Dean that he'd just been given an order, and Dean lost his temper with a viciousness that neither man had ever seen. His voice never rose above its normal level, but he cut John with the force of a thousand swords.

"Just what are you gonna do if I don't obey your order, Dad? Your son is lying on this bed with a bullet wound in his brain, and you want to tell me that you're giving me an order. Well, screw you, Dad. Because I'm telling you this now. On the small chance that Sam does wake up anytime soon, I am taking him and we are leaving. I won't make him go back to you again."

"Dean…" John started, but Dean was far from through.  
"No, Dad. Now I'm going to take five minutes with Sam, and then I'll meet you guys at the car." Dean repeated. "The longer you stand there, the longer it's going to take."

"Look, son, I know you're angry…"

"You're damn right I'm angry. I'm angry at you. Sam is dying, and you've barely been here all week. Like always, you've left me to be the one to be here with him. So, I'll tell you again. Leave me alone with Sam and go away."

Bobby grabbed John's shoulder to stop the argument escalating any further. "Let's go, John."

Dean watched as Bobby carefully led John out of the room. Dean turned back to the lifeless Sam in front of him, his emotions running wild and threatening to overtake him. Dean finally let out everything he'd been feeling for the last week. His voice rose as he spoke, though in hurt rather than anger.

"What the hell are you doing, Sam? You're not giving up. I know things are tough with you and dad. But this? Man, I don't care what you think Dad feels about you. How mad you think he is at you. How could you do this to _me_? Man, _I_ love you. I always have. I've always been proud of you. How could you do this, Sammy?"

Dean finally lost his composure and wept. The wall he'd placed around his head and heart, the one that refused to accept that Sam could be gone, was beginning to crumble to the ground. Dean hit his knees and shook with sobs, not caring whether anyone was watching him. He sat there for a few minutes crying, until he felt someone place a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Dean."

Dean pulled himself up and wrapped both arms around Bobby's neck, something he hadn't done since he was a small child. "He's gone, Bobby."

"I know, buddy." Bobby said.

"What am I gonna do without him, Bobby?"

"Let's not think about that right now." Bobby said. "Let's go see what Sam wants to tell us first."

That got Dean moving. He followed Bobby out, getting in the back of the Impala with both him and John. Bobby realized just how upset Dean really was when he handed Bobby the keys to the Impala and asked him to drive. Twenty minutes later, the three of them were sitting in Bobby's living room. No one was talking, and Bobby soon started the tape. Sam's voice, which none of them had heard in nearly two weeks, filled the room.

"Hey, guys. Um, I know you've been through a lot the last few days. But I made this tape because I wanted to explain myself to all of you. I know you all have a lot of questions, and I hope I can answer at least some of them now."

Sam cleared his throat, and Dean looked around. No one was looking at anyone else. John stood on the opposite side of the room, staring down at the floor. Bobby sat at his desk, staring out the window. Dean was on the couch, closest to Sam's voice, fighting an urge to reach out and grab his now nonexistent brother in a hug.

"I'm gonna start with you, Bobby." When Bobby heard his name, he turned his full attention towards the tape player. "Bobby, you've been so good to me and Dean our whole lives. You always encouraged me, told me I could do anything, be anything I wanted to be. I know you fought with Dad a lot over that, but I really appreciate you not letting that stop you. You gave me and Dean so much and you never had to. And I know this sounds corny, but the best thing you ever gave me was hope. Bobby, I wouldn't have lasted as long as I did without you. I love you, man. And I'm sorry I hurt you doing this."

Bobby didn't like big, emotional scenes. It was a side of him that he hid well, but he couldn't do it now. Bobby's heart belonged to two people. One of them was on his couch right now and the other one was on death's door. He couldn't help it. His heart ached and twisted painfully inside his chest, and he cried almost as much as Dean had in the hospital earlier.

"Your turn, Dean. Just so you know, I'm about to break your no chick flick moments rule." Sam chuckled a little, trying desperately to break at least a little of the tenseness of the situation. "Anyway, um, I don't really know the best way to say this, but I'll try. I know you're blaming yourself for this, Dean. You're racking your brain trying to realize why, trying to figure out if there's something you could have done to stop it, maybe even trying to find a way to bring me back. Listen to me very carefully, Dean. You have absolutely no blame in this. There's nothing you did to make it happen, there's nothing you could have done to stop it. Just the opposite. Dean, even when we argued, I never doubted that you cared about me. I never thought you didn't love me. I'll say it again, Dean. I want you to get it and get it very clearly. This is not your fault. It isn't your fault. I know it won't do any good to ask, but please don't blame yourself. Don't waste your life like that."  
Dean was shaking his head and had his eyes closed tight.

"Now, I have something to ask you, Dean. My last dying wish."

Dean's eyes snapped open and he stared at the tape player.

"Dean, don't let my death be in vain. Do what you want with your life. If you really want to keep hunting with Dad, do it. If you don't, leave. Don't stay with dad because you feel like you have to. Go out, find yourself your own life, Dean. Get a family. Hunt on your own. But don't let loyalty to Dad keep you doing something you really want to do. I love you, Dean. Like I told Bobby, I love you and I'm really sorry I hurt you doing this."

Dean's mind was turning. He knew that he shouldn't listen to Sam, that he should stay with John because John didn't have anyone else. He and Bobby had been close friends at one point, but the only thing really keeping them connected now was Sam and Dean. Dean realized that Sam hadn't addressed their father yet, and he decided to wait to hear that before making his decision.

"Now you, Dad." Sam said.

Dean heard Sam take a deep breath, and his heart ached for his baby brother. Talking to their dad always proved to be one of the hardest things for Sam to do. He had never really been able to reach their dad, and Dean prayed Sam could get through now.

"Dad, your message was the one I dreaded the most. I debated for a whole day whether or not to even leave a message for you, since there was so much I needed to say and I didn't know the best way to say it. I decided to just do it. This isn't about placing blame, Dad. But you need to know the truth."  
John was still looking at the floor, no sign of any kind of emotion flicking across his face.

"I was never planning to go to Stanford."

Every eye in the room shot upwards at that announcement.

"You heard me right, Dad. I was never planning to go to Stanford. I only applied to see if I could do it. I never intended to leave you and Dean."

John slowly moved towards the couch, stunned by the revelation Sam had just made.

"I've been thinking about doing this for a few years now. The first time I remember thinking about it is when I was fourteen and you guys found me in Flagstaff. I ran away because I didn't think you cared about me. When you found me, I wanted to hear you say that you did. But the only thing you did was yell at me and punish me for it. I got to wondering that night if you would be happier if it had been me that died in that fire that night instead of mom."

John exhaled hard at that.

"Dad, for as long as I can remember, you've stayed on top of me and Dean about training. That's all our life has been about. But that's not where my heart is. I want to see the world, Dad, not just protect it. But when I told you that I got accepted to Stanford, I wasn't looking for permission. I was only looking for you to say you were proud of me."

Dean felt his guilt skyrocket at that. He looked over at John and watched him throughout the rest of Sam's message. He realized now that Sam had just been looking for some recognition for something other than hunting. He wanted to feel as if his family was proud of him for something that he felt he was good at. Dean had never realized how truly lonely Sam was feeling. He had always realized Sam was different from him and John, but never knew how much it bothered Sam. Apparently, he hadn't been paying attention either.

"Dad, I don't want you to think I'm placing all the blame on you. I'm not. Maybe I should have tried harder to talk to you about this. Maybe I should have gotten Bobby or Dean to talk to you for me. But I just didn't see any other way to get through to you. I'm sorry, Dad. I really am. I love you and I hope you find peace one day." Sam sniffed, and Dean guessed that he was crying. "That's it, guys. If for some reason I made it and I'm on life support, I don't want you to keep me alive. Just let me go. Let me go and get on with your life. Let me be at peace. Love you guys. Goodbye."

The tape ended, and the room was left in an eerie silence. Everyone's mind was reeling, and no one knew what to say. Dean's heart was aching and pounding inside his chest. He didn't want to do it, but he knew what he had to do. He finally broke the silence.

"Bobby, I need to ask you a huge favor."

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

Dean looked at him with tears in his eyes. "Bury Sam."

"Of course we will…" Bobby said.

"No. I don't mean a hunter's funeral. I mean bury Sam. He couldn't live the way he wanted, I want to give him this. Bury him."

Bobby nodded. "Sure thing."

"Dean, we need to burn his body…" John started.

"No. No, we don't." Dean answered. "He will get this, Dad." Dean stood up and started to leave.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

Dean stopped at the desk. "Bobby, do you have a car I can use?"

"Yeah. The Pontiac out back. The outside looks rough, but it runs fine. The keys are in the garage." Bobby answered.

"Thanks." Dean said. "For everything, Bobby."

"You're welcome, boy." Bobby said. "You're welcome."

"Dean, where are you going?" John asked again.

"I'm going to say goodbye to Sam." Dean said. "And then I'm leaving."

"To go where?" John asked. "Dean, I still need you…"  
"Dad, stop." Dean said, closing his eyes to stop himself from blowing up. As angry as he was, a lifetime of training to be respectful to John was hard to shake off. He opened his eyes and spoke as evenly as he could. "Dad, I hope you find the thing that killed mom. Because it finally took everything from you."

With that, Dean walked out towards the garage and grabbed the car keys Bobby had told him about. He went to the hospital, said goodbye to Sam, and watched as the doctor turned off Sam's life support. It hurt, more than anything he'd ever done, but Dean felt a strange sense of peace about it all. He got in the car and drove off, away from his father, from Bobby, from Sam, and towards a life of his own.

 _Epilogue_

 _Seven Years Later_

Dean pulled the car into the cemetery, driving towards the spot Bobby had told him about when he'd called earlier. He hadn't seen Bobby or his father since Sam had died. He was nervous about going to Bobby's for dinner that night, but he was even more nervous about what he was about to do now. Lisa sat beside him in the passenger seat, and Ben sat in the back playing with an army man set. Dean parked the car, and sat staring at the gravestone for a moment.

"Do you want to go alone first?"

Dean turned towards Lisa, who was staring at him, concerned. "No thanks." he said. "Come on."

"Come on, Ben." Lisa said.

Ben and Lisa followed Dean towards Sam's grave. He was happy Bobby hadn't let John talk him out of burying Sam, though he had a feeling that John hadn't had the chance to talk him out of it. Dean bent down and read the gravestone first, then motioned for Ben to join him.

"Who's this, Dad?" Ben asked.

"This is your uncle Sam, buddy. Without him, you wouldn't be here." Dean said.

"What was he like?" Ben asked.

Dean smiled. "I see a lot of him in you. He was real smart, just like you. I think you two would have been good friends."

"You miss him, don't you, Dad?"  
Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah. Yeah, I do, buddy."

"Ben, let's go back to the car. Give your dad a few minutes alone with uncle Sam." Lisa said.

"Dad, will you tell me some stories about uncle Sam after you're done?" Ben asked.

Dean smiled. "You bet I will, kid. Go with your mom." When Ben and Lisa were back at the car, Dean turned towards Sam. "I never told you thank you. I never would have had the courage to leave Dad without you. You know, when I first saw you in that hospital room, I was pissed off. I couldn't understand why you'd do that to me, or to Dad. But now I get it. You were trying to make it better for me."  
"BENJAMIN SAMUEL WINCHESTER!"

Dean laughed and looked down towards the car. He couldn't tell what Ben had done, but it wasn't too bad. Lisa wasn't using what Dean called her 'thin ice' voice, she was using her 'I can't believe you just did that' voice. He stood up and looked back to Sam one more time.

"You did make it better for me. Thanks, little brother. Love you, bud."  
Dean started to walk back towards the car. Ben had stuck an army man in the ashtray, and it wouldn't come out. As Dean told him the story of when Sam had done the same thing, he didn't notice another man in the corner of the cemetery. As he drove away, the man moved closer to Sam's grave. He stood there for a few minutes staring, before finally saying,

"I'm sorry, son. Goodbye."


End file.
